


Only For You

by missditsydarcy



Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff, He's trying so hard, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, haru's kind of a douche but he loves his makoto... ;), long time no see... ;), not sure what else to put here, poor Makoto, so proud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 17:51:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15635721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missditsydarcy/pseuds/missditsydarcy
Summary: “Alright Haru…” Makoto says, sitting up and clicking his tongue as he continues to try and finish his exercise, tapping his finger on his jawline just like he wasn’t trying to accentuate his chances of getting a squid recipe out of his boyfriend for dinner that night, by being overly compliant. “I’ll make a deal with you; if I can get the peanuts down from the very top shelf, all by myself, then you have to break in that new cookbook I bought you for Christmas.”Haruka raises an eyebrow, just about completely mimicking his partners movements perfectly, then narrowing his eyes as he considers such a proposal—the look in Makoto’s eyes irrevocably promising that there’s a storm of mischief behind those friendly and inviting green eyes, which only serves to promote Haru’s smile all the more. “What’s in it for me?”“You won’t have to use the stool the whole time.”“What do you get, then??”Makoto pauses for a moment, before chuckling a bit as he folds his arms behind his head, easily lowering himself back onto the mattress.“Satisfaction.”





	Only For You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello!! Long time no see! ;)   
> I participated in the MakoHaru Gift exchange on tumblr this summer, and this is a little piece that I wrote for @megaobsessions that I thought I would post here while I wait for The Muse(TM) to return from war... ;'D 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!! :D

“Makoto,” Haruka says directly, but also under his breath, just like he has many, many times now. “Stop holding your breath.”

“ _Mmmg,_ ” comes a rather disgruntled response, a quickened exhale followed by a rather extended inhale, a minor shift as Makoto Tachibana already begins to relax. He looks off to the left, a half bitten smile towards his boyfriend while Haru once again levels the other man’s foot that has been willingly placed in his hands. “I’m not doing that! Where’d you get _that_ idea from?”

Haruka stifles a chuckle, his lips spiking up a bit on one side as he takes a moment to stretch forward a little himself so his hand cascades a bit up his lover’s leg, causing Makoto to shiver a little bit before he once again relaxes until his make-shift physical therapist is once again working up the muscles of his injured ankle.

“I can feel your muscles tensing,” Haru remarks, taking care to cradle Makoto’s heel in his hands as he works it around in a very small and reasonable ball motion, a tiny circle three more times before he holds it flat again—gently rubbing around the area and then smoothing it over his leg once again, promoting another shiver from his patient.

“Well _that_ isn’t helping!” Makoto all but yelps, smiling as he attempts to pull himself to sit up on their bed so he can watch Haruka’s exercising method,  taking his own hand to follow in the escapade, probably smoothing the hairs back to where they’re supposed to be, along the ridges of his muscles that he’s not quite used to being touched. “I don’t think any professional therapist would be…doing that to their patients…”

Haru pauses, taking a moment to stare at his lover as his eyes offer up a rather tantalizing response, his hand once again, defiantly, slinking up to this place that has apparently been unattainable all this time—he smiles a bit as Makoto yelps again, but then pulls his hands away and presents them to his friend like he was surrendering.

“Makoto doesn’t stretch well when he’s tense,” Haruka supplies, easily, after a moment of silence, his hands falling down into his lap as Makoto pulls his feet away and moves to face him, sitting Indian style as well as if he’s trying to keep his feet a secret. “You need to relax.”

“I know,” Makoto says, his face crestfallen as he awkwardly brushes his triceps and pointedly looks at Haruka’s hands rather than looking where he should be looking. “It’s just hard when it hurts…”

“I know,” Haru says quietly, using a beckoning finger to assuage his boyfriend by raising Makoto’s chin so the two can look each other in the eyes once more. “But it’ll get easier; I promise.”

Makoto smiles sadly, biting his lip before he runs a hand through his hair as he bends forward to pull their lips in together in a chaste kiss, a form of motivation for the next stretch that he must do, his stomach churning at the sight of the damp blue hand towel that Haruka moves to tie around the other man’s foot.

Somehow, though, there are parts of this stretch that neither Makoto nor Haru minds, because they can lie beside one another, their hands clasped together as the taller male must lift his leg and spin his foot in circles three times, before pulling his knee up until he can feel the stretch. Sure, it hurts just about as much as any stretch, but at this point, with Haruka right within reach, Makoto can find himself getting lost in him. His eyes scanning down the length of the swimmer’s face, his neck, and then muscles in his chest and his arms—there’s always been something so familiar about all of it, even through all of the changes that it’s undergone, from being a small child, to stretching out to comply with the band width of strength that he needs to get himself from one point in the pool, to another.

Makoto vaguely remembers a time when Haruka was taller than him. They’ve been together all of these years, and while many things have changed, namely, their status from best friends to more-than-friends, and being apart from each other that first year of University until their confessions of a requited love came through loud and clear, and they quickly remedied that space in order for them to sap up as much of each other that they can get by finally moving in together right before University started back up.

He remembers being smaller, but then, all of a sudden not being that way at all; he remembers starting Middle School, and those changes from starting to find their true selves to figuring out just who, _or what_ he was swimming for. And now…this; they really have been through a lot with one another, and they’ve always been together every step of the way.

One thing Makoto knows more than anyone is how Haru’s always been protective of him, and the longer he thinks about it, it seems to have a lot less to do with their age difference than he once would have liked to think. He still is protective, even going as far as the extra mile to research exercises that will help Makoto’s sprained ankle heal and strengthen again, though Haruka had never mentioned exactly why. He really doesn’t need to, Makoto thinks, as their hands lace together in the moment while the pain begins to surface; he reminds himself silently to breathe, and with the way that Haru squeezes his hand he realizes that the other man has caught onto this as well. And the next thing Makoto knows, he’s hit with a profound sense of gratitude that he feels he has no choice but to express.

“Thanks for being here, Haru,” Makoto says, and it sounds as if he’s said it rather suddenly, though he also feels as though it’s been on the tip of his tongue for a long time. “I know that I’ve been difficult to deal with lately…”

Haruka pauses for a moment, shooting his love a look of reciprocating gratitude, his affections pouring out of his blue eyes as well as he squeezes Makoto’s hand for a moment before he hums, seeming to let it all roll off and away from him, like these emotions were too tedious to deal with.

“…No more than usual,” he muses airily, flicking his hand in the air as if he was batting the sentiments away before it could get them into any more trouble.

“Oh good— _hey_!”

“When’re we going to be able to get rid of that stool, again?” Haruka deadpans, Makoto knowing full-well that his lover prefers to only the cook and not also the sous-chef.

“ _Haru_ , I don’t go to see the doctor for another two weeks!”

“…doesn’t mean you couldn’t start practicing now.”

Makoto opens his mouth, starting like he was going to come up with a rebuttal just when something occurs to him; Haru’s right. He could at least try—if he’s careful, that is.

“Alright Haru…” Makoto says, sitting up and clicking his tongue as he continues to try and finish his exercise, tapping his finger on his jawline just like he _wasn’t_ trying to accentuate his chances of getting a squid recipe out of his boyfriend for dinner that night, by being overly compliant. “I’ll make a deal with you; if _I_ can get the peanuts down from the very top shelf, all by myself, then _you_ have to break in that new cookbook I bought you for Christmas.”

Haruka raises an eyebrow, just about completely mimicking his partners movements perfectly, then narrowing his eyes as he considers such a proposal—the look in Makoto’s eyes irrevocably promising that there’s a storm of mischief behind those friendly and inviting green eyes, which only serves to promote Haru’s smile all the more. “What’s in it for me?”

“You won’t have to use the stool the whole time.”

“What do _you_ get, then??”

Makoto pauses for a moment, before chuckling a bit as he folds his arms behind his head, easily lowering himself back onto the mattress.

“Satisfaction.”

“…too much effort.”

“Awh, c’mon; what if I promise to pick a really _easy_ recipe??”

Haru pauses for what seems like a long moment before wordlessly moving to untie the hand towel from Makoto’s foot, pulling it away in a smooth motion before shooting his lover a small smile that has submission written all over it.

“Only for you, Makoto…”

* * *

 

It had started with a can of peanuts, and now Makoto plans to make it end with a can of peanuts.

Haruka watches his boyfriend closely, reveling in the hues of his tall and russet form stretching out to reach a can of nutty treat while his other hand grips wholeheartedly on his remaining crutch, his bandaged foot hanging just barely still off the ground as Makoto Tachibana silently vows that not only he will not let this treat get the best of him once more, but that he’ll be enjoying a steaming plate…squid… _something_ for dinner tonight.

The room remains quite silent, save for the occasional grunts of frustration from the brunet as he continues to stretch, fingers flashing about like the act was supposed to aid him in the process of completing his task. 

“Haru,” Makoto puffs out after a few minutes of his personal squabble, his voice rather high in his disapproval as he lets out a breath of remorse when he catches onto the bemused expression on his best friend’s face as he watches the other man struggle with a menial task. “Don’t laugh; this is way harder than it looks!”

Haruka just blinks, an eyebrow rising in query, like he wasn’t sure what Makoto really meant, even though he totally did. A part of him wanted to help his boyfriend, but he knew exactly what Makoto was trying to achieve with this odd feat, and this is why he’s going to stay put for the first time in a long while.

Four weeks ago, a similar can had caused a much greater struggle than this when Makoto was home alone in their shared apartment—attempting to multitask, to get a snack while he was studying, intently watching his textbook rather than where he was going when his foot landed sideways after stretching to reach the can that was farther back in the cupboard that it ought to have been, stumbling further when the alarm of such an excursion that ended him with a swollen and painful ankle that has now been out on commission since that day, and now that it’s almost healed, and in light of Haruka’s own involvement of encouragement, Makoto seemed determined to fix his pride as well.

Haruka stifles an affectionate chuckle, looking down at the cookbook in his hands as he flits though the pages of his Christmas present, wondering just what Makoto was going to choose for them to have for dinner that night. He’s still watchful, just in case Makoto would end up needing assistance, but he doesn’t look up immediately as he begins to offer up more suggestions.

“Use the counter as leverage,” Haru muses, turning the page. There’s a brief pause, a grunt, before an actual response.

“I don’t want to lift my feet from the ground…isn’t that what happened last time??”

“Then get a spatula…”

“I don’t want to just knock it down; I’m not an animal, Haru.”

 “Put some honey on the spatula, then…”

“Why would—wait,” Makoto whines for all but a moment before he’s suddenly silenced, and Haruka doesn’t look back up—not that he would actually have to—to sense his childhood best friend hobbling in front of him in order confirm any sort of findings that might have been present, as Haruka continues to appear more infatuated with his cookbook rather than the end result of their little ‘bet’. He turns the page idly, placing his finger on the title of the recipe for Ika Yakisoba, because something in him just knows exactly what the brunet is going to pick. “If I use something sticky it’ll do almost the same job as my hand, wouldn’t it? That’s it!”

Haruka smiles as he continues to watch his cookbook, waiting for his beloved to receive this ‘satisfaction’ that he’d been talking about earlier—stifling his own chuckle as Makoto continues to prepare his task, not looking up until the brunet cries out seconds later in his triumph, a can of peanuts securely in his hand that wasn’t still gripping his crutch.

“I did it! I couldn’t have done it without you, Haru, thank you!”

Hobbling over to Haru, Makoto pulls the swimmer into a triumphant smooch before he easily pops open the lid and places some peanuts in his own mouth before sharing them with Haruka.

“Success tastes…nutty,” Makoto jokes, chuckling a bit as he moves to sit next to Haru at the kitchen table. “Oh, _that_ sounds good.”

Haruka nods as he peruses the recipe one final time before looking his boyfriend in the eye, the crinkle of joy back in his green irises unlike that he’s seen in quite a while, a gaze that he’s stared into many, many times over the years.

“Victory dinner it is, then,” Haru smiles, watching intently as the brunet’s smile broadens, and Makoto engulfs him into those arms that he’d grown up with, grown up loving and caring for. Those muscles that began smaller than his own, that developed and grew as they did, themselves. The symbolism of their love for swimming, for the water, those muscles that carried Makoto so gracefully from the start of the race to the end—ever so familiar, like the back of Haruka’s own hand. It was familiar, even like those ligaments that must have teared when Makoto had landed wrong those weeks ago.

Haruka remembers the time when they were younger and he was the taller of the two, it felt so easy for him to tower over, to protect his younger friend from the things that might have tried to hurt him. He was Makoto’s protector, and in some ways, he still is, even after those muscles came in, and they graduated and both of them realized that they were old enough to take care of themselves, living on their own the first year of University until they became a couple, officially, and they came together to share this apartment. To this day Haruka still remembers that feeling, the suffocating realization that he wasn’t always going to appear like the protector, that maybe he wasn’t always going to _be_ the protector; especially seeing as though Makoto proved to him today that he can handle things on his own. (Even though he’s aware that he had helped the brunet along his way.)

“Great!” he hears Makoto enthuse as he comes back down to earth, watching his partner ever affectionately as he and those muscles rise, appearing stronger and more sure of themselves than ever. “If you need anything from the top shelf, I’d be happy to get it for you!”

“Maybe next time you could actually get it with your own _hands;_ you know how important it is to strengthen your muscles…”

“Haru!”

And with that, Haruka goes on to prepare a meal for the one he loves, watching him oh-so-carefully navigate a world with which his own would have no meaning without this man beside him—even when Makoto proceeds to whine in the moments after this, when they both realize that recipe doesn’t call for peanuts after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on tumblr: www.l1nkp1t.tumblr.com!! <3


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